


Murder Time

by EnbyWitch



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But Not Everyone Is Open About It, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Is Overdramatic And Extra, I Hope You Enjoy Reading As Much As I Enjoyed Writing It, Includes Nonbinary Minor Noncanon Characters, Multi, No One Actually Dies It's Just A Game, Non-Graphic Violence, Nudity, People Will Get Flustered, The Purge: College Edition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnbyWitch/pseuds/EnbyWitch
Summary: The announcement came with hardly any warning. “Attention students and faculty. As I’m certain some of you are aware, that time of the year has arrived. Murder Time will begin at midnight and all students should be in their dorms by no later than 10pm in order to give the staff time to deliver their knives. Now I’m sure many of you already know how this works, but for the sake of our freshmen, I’m gonna explain the rules…"Time seemed to freeze, students stopped whatever they were doing and exchanged shifty-eyed glances with each other, freshmen looked confused as the rules were explained, seniors cracked their knuckles and sneered at underclassmen, already forming battle plans.Murder Time had begun.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shawn is an OC of mine that I threw in here. He's a redheaded, blue-eyed, freckly sweetie and sincerely hope you enjoy the theatrics of this whole fic. I loved writing it.

The announcement came with hardly any warning. “Attention students and faculty. As I’m certain some of you are aware, that time of the year has arrived. That delightful week in which friendships are broken by back stabbings. Literally, in some cases. Murder Time will begin at midnight and all students should be in their dorms by no later than 10pm in order to give the staff time to deliver their knives. Now I’m sure many of you already know how this works, but for the sake of our freshmen, I’m gonna explain the rules…

“There will be no killing of anyone in their dorm rooms, or when they’re naked, or actual death. Failure to comply will result in immediate disqualification, and possible suspension. Anything else is fair game. The name of your targets will be written on your knives. You are to kill that person, and no one else. Once you kill your target, you take their knife and kill that person, and so on and so forth, until you are the last one standing. If you are killed, that’s it, you’re dead. You can’t actively help anyone kill anyone else. You don’t get the prize at the end of the week.”

Time seemed to freeze, students stopped whatever they were doing and exchanged shifty-eyed glances with each other, freshmen looked confused as the rules were explained, seniors cracked their knuckles and sneered at underclassmen, already forming battle plans.

 

Murder Time had begun.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Jojo tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk as she listened to the announcements. Lil sat next her her, absentmindedly reading a post on Tumblr.

“This year I’m gonna get him, Lil, no fooling around. I’m not losing to him, not again,” she growled, furrowing her brows as she glared at the wall.

“Who?” Lil asked in a tone that suggested she really didn’t care. Her girlfriend was getting so worked up over what seemed like nothing, but if she didn’t say anything, Jojo would direct that anger at her.

“You know who! The same fuckwit who has killed me at the very end for the last two years!”

“Oh yeah, what was his name again?” Lil mused unenthusiastically, reblogging the post.

“Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski, my ex-best friend and two year champion of Murder Time,” Jojo grumped in a murderous tone, banging her fist on the desk. “But this year I refuse to let him win! I refuse to be beaten by his smug little face again! Mark my words, Lil, he’s **_going down_ **.”

“Okay.”

Lil didn’t particularly care about Murder Time the same way her competitive girlfriend did. If she was honest, the idea of randomly dying at the hands of someone else at any time was very appealing and she didn’t even try to keep herself from being killed. It probably took the fun out of it for her killer, but she didn’t care.

Jojo pulled out a notebook and pencil and began scribbling plans. “I used a regular flashlight last year, but that fucker can see in the dark I swear… I think I need something more high powered and brighter to blind him. Other than that, all the other weaklings don’t stand a chance against my plan from last year.”

“Lying in wait and hiding in hard to reach places?”

Jojo giggled. “I’m very hard to kill. Sock just happens to be **_very_ ** good at murder.”

“You think you’ll get lucky and get his knife first?”  
  
“I’m sincerely hoping, but given how the odds work, the faculty probably won’t let me eliminate him so quickly.” Jojo sighed, and chewed on her eraser. “You’re not gonna take it seriously, are you?”  
  
“Nope,” Lil agreed. “Even if I get your knife, I won’t even try.”

Jojo frowned. “You won’t-”  
  
“Give it to Sock? And ruin your fun? Of course not.” Lil said.

“Good,” Jojo leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You’re a good girlfriend.”

Lil smiled. “I know.”

There was a silence. “If I get your knife, I won’t hesitate to kill you, you know that right?” Jojo asked.

“I expect nothing less,” Lil answered fondly.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Woo! It’s Murder Time!” Sock shouted as he ran into his dorm room. It appeared that his roommate wasn’t out of class yet, so he had the whole place to himself to begin figuring out his plans for the week.

He loved Murder Time. For the last two years he’d been the Champion, which was great and all that. The prizes changed every year and they were always pretty great, but what he loved the most was the act of hunting down and “killing” someone.It was fun, and helped keep his actual homocidal tendencies at bay. He wondered who he’d get to kill this year. The best thing about Murder Time was he didn’t have to bury any bodies. There wasn’t any blood or messy clean up, but that didn’t take the rush away.

He enjoyed the rivalry he had with Jojo, although she took it really seriously. Last year she’d almost beat him up after he killed her, but the RA intervened just in time. Sock was kind of scared of her to be honest.

 

He threw himself onto his bed, giggling. He couldn’t wait until midnight. On the way to his room he’d passed by a few students who had already begun Murder Time preparations like unscrewing the lights in the hall and taping garbage bags over the windows.

He hadn’t been well prepared for his first Murder Time as a freshman, and had gotten close to the last few alive by sheer luck, but died at the hand of a senior. He had been disappointed that he hadn’t won, but was very excited about the whole affair and couldn’t wait for next year.

Now he was a seasoned Murder Time player and he was ready. He’d been planning his killing strategy ever since the last MT and biding his time. Now it was here, and there were only hours left until it began. No doubt Jojo was out there planning her strategy as well.

He sat up and bounced on his bed. There was so much to do and so little time to prepare, he almost felt sorry for all the freshman. Almost. He was going to have a lot of fun killing them, that was for sure.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Zack tossed his backpack into the corner upon first arriving back at his room. It landed with a heavy thunk that scared the bejeezus out of his roommate, Shawn, who was sitting on his bed and had been nose deep in his Calculus homework. Shawn looked up and pushed his glasses up, and stretched. “Back so soon?” he asked, yawning.

Zack grunted and dropped heavily onto his bed, making the frame shake and creak. He kicked off his shoes and rolled over so that his back was facing Shawn. The dorm rooms were almost built to look like small apartments, with the shared bedroom fitting two single beds on the opposite sides, a kitchen so small it could only hold a microwave, sink and a tiny fridge under the counter, and a bathroom that held a toilet and a sink.

Shawn pulled his long red hair out of its ponytail and sighed, running his hand through the wavy locks. “Guess it’s Murder Time again-”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
Shawn shut his mouth. He was a sophomore, and Zack was a senior, so it was perfectly understandable that Zack wasn’t all that enthused about what was going to happen in a few hours.

 

Still, Shawn kinda wanted to talk strategy. It was only his second year after he had died unceremoniously early last year and he wanted to be prepared. He wasn’t particularly social and there wasn’t really anyone else he could trust now.

He took a deep breath and sighed. He had a bit of a _huge crush_ on Zack and that made talking to him already hard enough on a regular basis. Now, with the added pressure of many deaths and chaos soon happening, he couldn’t even find the courage to open his mouth.

He put his hair back into a ponytail and went back to his calculus homework, which was infinitely more simple than his feelings.

Zack shifted and turned so that he was laying on his stomach with his face pressed into the pillow. He let out a sigh so deep it made Shawn look over with concern. Zack said something into his pillow that Shawn couldn’t hear. “What?” Shawn asked.

Zack lifted his head. “I hate Murder Time,” he said before plunking his head back down.

Shawn bit his lip and stared down at his homework. “Yeah…”

Zack pushed himself up and turned around and flopped down onto his back. “There’s just too much stress and paranoia, y’know? I don’t know why they keep doing it every year…” he sighed, draping an arm over his eyes and going quiet.

Shawn twirled his pencil between his fingers. “Entertainment?” he asked quietly.

The other man scoffed. “Yeah probably. The Administration is probably so sadistic, they get off on watching the students try to kill each other.”

The pencil flew out of Shawn’s fingers and landed on the floor somewhere. He muttered a mock curse under his breath and scrambled after it. Zack lifted his arm to peek at him. “Are you doing homework?”

Shawn picked up his pencil, looked at Zack and nodded.

“Why?”  
  
“Keeps my mind off things. It’s simpler to solve math problems than my life’s problems.”

“You’re not worried about… y-y’know…”  
  
“Ah no, I’m actually terrified. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it, and you don’t want to talk about it so-” Shawn got back to his spot on his bed, “-I’m just going to ignore it.”

Zack sat up. “You want to talk about it? Strategize n’ all that?”

Shawn tried not to appear to excited. “If that’s okay with you, then yeah!”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Zack flapped his hand as if shooing away his dumb thoughts like they were a pesky fly. “We’ve got time until we’re basically enemies, so might as well even out the odds.”

“Mm, okay.” Shawn put his homework to the side and shifted so that he was facing Zack. “Lay it on me then.”

“Okay so basically…”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Local Senior Jonathan Combs is determined to be the hardest person to kill simply because he gives no fucks, more at 11.”

Jonathan groaned out loud. And then was promptly told to shush by the librarian. His study buddy snickered into their book. Jon glared at them. “Ten bucks says you’ll be one of the first to die,” he hissed.

“You’re on, man.”

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Homophobic slur ahead

“I’m not doing that!”

 

“Dude, why not? It’s not like you’ll be written up for it. There’s pretty much no rules and anything goes as long nobody actually dies.”   
  
“It’s- it’s- it’s indecent!”

 

Shawn’s face was in his hands and felt very warm against his cool fingers. He’d just been informed by his roommate, Zack, that he could get away with not being killed if he walked around naked. Needless to say, the idea didn’t sit right with him, and even the mental image that flashed in his mind left him extremely flustered.

 

“Decency gets thrown out the window during Murder Time, bud. Not much you can do about that,” Zack replied, lounging back on his bed with his hands behind his head.

 

Shawn groaned into his hands. He had a few recollections of guys walking around in nothing but a towel last year, but after he’d died, he spent more time hanging out in areas away from people until the whole thing was over. He never actually saw anyone naked, but he had a feeling that it was going to be unavoidable now.

 

“Even if you don’t, I’m not taking any chances this year,” Zack continued. “From midnight on, the only thing I’m wearing is a towel around my waist for the rest of the week.”

 

The redhead lifted his head up. His cheeks were still very flushed, and his eyes were wide in disbelief. “Th-then I guess… I’ll j-just hide away like I did last year, and hope nobody finds me.” 

 

“Whatever works, dude.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The sun set and soon it was dark out. The students that were left returned from their evenings classes, and soon the campus was dead silent. There were only a few students out finishing homework last minute, but by 10, there wasn’t a student left.

 

The dorms, however, were still a chaotic mess. Each hallway was dark and a few students were milling about with flashlights as they headed to their rooms. Pieces of the ceilings had been removed so as to make a few hiding spots for those who didn’t have many classes to lie in wait for their prey, but almost everyone was in their rooms currently.

 

Sock’s roommate returned, and immediately went to bed, not even bothering to take off their clothes. Sock was waiting by the door with a flashlight in his hands, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the knife, which he knew would arrive in an envelope with his name on it, and a picture of his target, should he not recognize the name.

 

He knew he wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Most wouldn’t, except for those who would have accepted their fate, like his roommate. Some would leave their rooms and sneak into their hiding spots, moments before the break of dawn. Sock expected that of Jojo, since she was smaller and could fit herself into tight spaces much easier than most of her peers. She’d done it for the last few years and it always worked for her right until the end. But Sock knew her Murder style too well to let her win.

 

Unless of course, she changed it up a little to make herself less predictable. She tended to kill erratically with lots of yelling and running after someone, while Sock was more of a low key killer, sidling up to someone and stabbing them in the back while their guard was down.

 

Time ticked by slowly. Sock fidgeted, getting up and walking around the room, softly, in sock feet so as to not wake his roommate. Waiting for his envelope made him restless, and he wasn’t a patient person. Hardly slept either, but that was fine. He could make it on a few hours of shut eye better than most. College kind of demanded that of a student anyway.

 

Eventually he paused in his twinkle-toed dance across the room when he heard the ‘shff’ sound of paper sliding between wood and carpet a half hour later. Murder Time didn’t officially begin until midnight, but the unofficial start was when you got your envelope, and Sock skipped to the door, alive with excitement.

 

He picked up both envelops, and skipped to his roommate’s bed to lay theirs on the bedside table. He was tempted to peek but that would take the thrill out of it,and besides, it would keep him alert.

 

Sock hopped onto his bed and sat cross legged, holding his flashlight in his mouth while he tore open the envelope and emptied the contents into his lap. He didn’t recognize the name of his target, and a quick glance at the photo told him very little. This person was probably a freshman, or a transfer student, someone he didn’t know. Sock liked to talk to people and he knew almost everyone in his graduating class. Plus a few from other grades. But the lower the grade, the less he shared classes with, and hence: he didn’t know this kid. But he would soon, if only briefly.

 

He hummed softly to himself and slid the picture and knife back into the envelope and got up, taking the flashlight out of his mouth and wiping the spit off on his shirt. He traipsed on tip-toe to the door and opened it, shining his flashlight into the darkness. He spotted a fellow classmate, a rather androgynous blue haired person from his art class, that had frozen in the light like a stricken deer, knife and picture in hand. Sock clicked off his flashlight and called out in a whisper, “Who did you get, Sam?”

 

When Sam didn’t answer, Sock assumed they’d moved on in the darkness, but soon he felt someone approach. “I’ll t-tell you, as l-long as you p-promise you didn’t g-get me,” Sam’s voice answered, the haltingness of their voice telling Sock that they were bouncing on their feet and poised to run if Sock made a move. 

 

“I didn’t get you,” Sock answered.

 

“You promise?”

 

“I promise. I got some freshman, I think. Someone I don’t know.”

 

A breath, and then a sigh. “Okay, good. I like you Sock, but I know how good you are at this game. I’d hate to die to you so early.”

 

“I’m being nice this time. But I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you once I saw you if you were my target,” Sock said earnestly. “In fact, I’ll be even nicer. Come inside, Trace is asleep but as long as you whisper I think we’ll be fine. I don’t want you to die either.”

 

“Oh.” Sam pushed their way past Sock into his dorm. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem, so who’d you get?” Sock asked, flicking on his flashlight. He shone it on the picture, and saw another face he didn’t quite recognize.

 

Sam checked the name. “Jonathan Combs.”

 

“I have no idea who that is.”

 

“Me neither.”

 

“I thought I recognized their face though,” Sock said, squinting at the picture. “But not the name. Jonathan Combs. Weird.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Sam laughed softly, nudging Sock with their elbow.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sock replied, nudging them back.

 

“So who’s your target?” Sam asked.

 

“One moment. Lemme get my envelope.” Sock tip-toed to his bed and retrieved his knife and picture, and tip-toed back. He paused when Trace shifted in their sleep, but kept on when nothing more was heard from his dorm mate but soft snoring.

 

“I dunno who that is. Looks like a transfer student,” Sam commented after Sock showed them the picture. 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Sock mused, looking at the knife. “Can’t really tell by the name though… It looks like a normal name.” He showed them the knife.

 

Sam squinted at the knife. “Yeah, no clue. Guess the administrative staff are givin’ ya a run for your money this time.”

 

“Can’t make it too easy for two time Murder Time champion Napoleon Maxwell ‘Sock’ Sowachowski, now can we?” Sock said, putting on a funny voice in imitation of the MT Committee.

 

Sam made a noise that sounded like the grating of sandpaper and immediately covered their mouth with their hands trying to keep from laughing. Sock had on the biggest grin and was softly giggling. “Sorry,” he said, voice threatening to breach from a whisper.

 

“You’re not that sorry!” Sam objected, voice shaking from the effort to keep quiet.

 

“You’re right, but we better get out of here if we’re gonna laugh because Trace is  _ not _ a happy camper when woken up,” Sock warned.

 

“You’re the one who made me laugh!” Sam pointed out, grabbing Sock by the arm and opening the door.

 

“I said I was sorry!”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Jojo was out of her room like a shot once she got her envelope, waking a very sleepy Lil up when the door banged shut behind her girlfriend, and blinked confusingly at the door like it would tell her why it woke her up. Jojo was back almost immediately, and ran to Lil’s bed, jumping on top of her and knocking the breath out of the poor purple haired girl.

 

Lil made a noise of complaint, and Jojo moved off of her with an apology. “Sorry babe, the teacher gave you the wrong envelope and I had to go after her quickly before she disappeared into the dark.”

 

“And you couldn’t do this without slamming the door?” Lil mumbled.

 

“No, sorry, I panicked.”

 

Lil grunted, and turned over, intending to go to sleep, when she felt something brush her face. “But I got your envelope. You want me to open it for you?”

 

“What I’d really like is to go back to sleep,” Lil answered.

 

“Baaaabe,” Jojo whined. Lil ignored her, praying Jojo would take the hint and leave her alone.

 

“ _ Baaaaaaaaabe _ ,” Jojo whined louder, voice pitching up an octave. Lil didn’t respond.

 

“I’ll leave you alone if you let me do this for youuuuu,” Jojo sing-songed.

 

“Fuck,” Lil muttered. “Okay, who’d I get?”

 

Jojo made a quiet sound of triumph that was soon followed by the ripping of paper and the click of a flashlight. Lil screwed her eyelids shut tighter against the offending light and groaned. “Sorry,” she heard Jojo mutter. “I know who this is! She’s from my English class. Some Sorority chick I think. Does the name Brittney Fitch ring a bell to you?”

 

“Not to my melatonin-ridden brain, no.”

 

“This the girl that everyone calls ‘Brittney Bitch’ because her name sounds similar to that phrase Britney Spears says in her newer songs. Also she's a huge bitch.”

 

“Mm... Is that the same chick that fucked half the student body in order to get the popular vote for Prom Queen because she has the personality of a stale french fry?”

 

“According to Brad, quarterback of the football team and my partner for half my English projects because everyone else is an idiot, she’s about as good in bed as a stale french fry.”

 

“Oh my god…”

 

“I know. Anyway, you have to kill her because calling her a thorn in my side is an insult to thorns in people’s sides and I’d rather deal with chronic neck pain than listen to her flirt with Brad in English when it’s clear he’s not interested.”

 

“.....Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

 

“You’d think so and don’t get me wrong, Brad is obnoxious in his own way. You would be too if you were a testosterone-ridden male in a class full of girls, but the point is, he’s a decent guy and she’s wasting her time and effort trying to get his D up when she should be trying to get another D up to at least a C.”

 

“Jojo, I know you’re the Gossip Queen but I don’t need to know all of this.”

 

“You do if you want to hate her enough to feel the drive to kill her.”

 

“Jojo I can’t stress this enough but,  _ I don’t caaaaare. _ I’ll keep myself alive long enough for you to kill me and then you can kill her all you want.”

 

Jojo was silent for a while. Lil was relieved by the silence and was almost asleep when she heard her girlfriend speak. 

 

“.....I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but I guess I have no choice….”

 

Lil sighed heavily. “What now?” she grumbled.

 

“I didn’t think I’d have to use this as a last resort but-”

 

“Jojo,” Lil said, turning over and opening her eyes to squint up at the shadowy form of her girlfriend. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Well, you know I have kind of a big mouth, right?”

 

“No shit, Sherlock.”

 

“Lil…”

 

“Sorry. Yeah?”

 

“Well…. I  _ may _ have told her to fuck off after listening to her do her whole ‘routine’ for twenty minutes.”

 

“Oh boy.”

 

“Yeah, and she turned to me and snapped ‘shut the fuck up, dyke’ before turning back and-”

 

Lil’s tone was murderous. “ **What did she call you** ?”

 

“A dyke.”

 

Silence. Then Lil’s gravelly voice muttering, “I’m gonna kill her.”

 

It took all of Jojo’s self control not to leap off the bed and shriek in triumph. Instead she pulled out her phone and pulled up the voice recorder. “Can I get you to repeat that please? I didn’t hear you.”

 

“I said-”

 

“Hold on!” Jojo pressed record. “Okay. Brittney Fitch called me a dyke, and what are you gonna do?”

 

“I’m gonna kill her.”

 

“Louder~?”

 

“I’m gonna kill her!”

 

“With expletives?” Jojo said, unable to keep from grinning.

 

“I’m gonna fuckin kill that bitch. No one calls my girlfriend a dyke and gets away with it!” 

 

Jojo stopped the recording and leaned over to give Lil a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I love you~,” she cooed and snuggled down beside her gf.

 

“...love you too,” Lil mumbled.

  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Jonathan POV in this chapter, and probably not for quite a few chapters. Not until Sock gets his knife anyway. And it won't be by killing Sam, as you will have noticed. (I like to think I was clever with the Sorority chick's name.) I already know how I want this to end, so it shall be fun! >:3c


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came and the campus and dorms were filled with the sounds of fearful screams and maniacal cackles. The telltale sign of many deaths and Killers hyped up on adrenaline, and Shawn was afraid to even leave his room. He had his knife tucked away in his long since opened envelope under his pillow, and he was still trying to come to terms with who he was assigned to kill. Surely there had to be some kind of mistake, he couldn’t possibly be designated to kill someone so close to him!

He started when the door opened, nearly falling off the edge his bed where he was sitting.

“Whoa chill dude, it’s just me,” the voice of his roommate soothed. Zack entered the room, a  towel wrapped around his waist as was planned. “Nobody is allowed to kill you in the rooms anyway, so you’re safe.”

Shawn hummed, but it sounded more like a whimper. He couldn’t even look at Zack.

“You okay?” Zack asked, so concerned it tugged on Shawn’s heartstrings.

“Fine,” Shawn responded, but his voice cracked, betraying the fact that he was very much not fine.

Zack walked over to sit on the edge of the bed next to Shawn, and the other boy felt his heart hammer against his ribs, although out of fear or because of his crush, he couldn’t tell. Zack patted his back but Shawn shrunk away from the contact, feeling like he was going to explode. Zack withdrew his hand. 

“Sorry, did you see who your target was? Is that why you’re upset?” Zack asked. Shawn nodded. Zack rubbed the back of his neck and whooshed out a sigh. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but if it would help…”

Shawn shook his head.

“Ah,” Zack said. “Okay, I’ll just- I’ll leave you alone.” He got up and crossed to his side of the room. Shawn looked up, saw that Zack was in nothing but a towel, and felt his face get very warm. He could try to deny that this wasn’t happening all he wanted, but it was very clear by the attire his roommate was sporting, that it was.

He watched Zack grab his backpack and sling it over his shoulder. “I’m going to class, see you in a couple hours,” he said, striding past Shawn to leave the room. Shawn didn’t answer, didn’t make a sound until he heard the door close with a soft click, and then he let out a shaky sigh. He reached under his pillow for the envelope, pulled it out, and dumped the contents onto his pillow. The plastic knife landed Target Name up and Shawn felt the name burning a hole into his soul.

_ Zack Melto. _

Shawn whimpered. “I can’t do it. I can’t  _ do it _ . I can’t  _ kill _ him. Whose idea of a sick joke is this? There must be some mistake, there must-” he shook his head, covering his face with his hands.

How could he ever pull this off???

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

“I don’t know how you pulled this off,” Lil said, glaring at her knife as if she could melt the plastic with the heat of her gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jojo said, strangely chipper for someone who normally spoke like she was trying to pick a fight.

“You blackmailed me into participating in a game I want no part of.”

“I didn’t blackmail you, I’m just very persuasive.”

Bull. Shit.”

“You said so yourself, you’re gonna kill Brittany Fitch because she called me a homophobic slur, and she’s not getting away with it, or do I have to play you that recording again?” Jojo said, waving her phone.

“The only people who make recordings of people admitting shit are blackmailers and reporters, who are basically blackmailers in disguise,” Lil retorted.

“C’mon Lil, can’t you please just do this one thing for me? I promise, I won’t make you kill anyone else,” Jojo begged, getting down on her knees in front of her girlfriend and clasping her hands together.

Lil shifted her glare to Jojo, who met it unflinchingly. They stayed like that for a couple minutes, until Lil’s eyes started watering and she had to blink. “Ugh,” she objected, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Fine. I’ll kill Brittany Bitch, and that’s it. You better work real hard on finding my knife though, and make it up to me by murdering me quickly.”

Jojo got up and threw her arms around Lil. “Yes! Of course, I will. I’ll murder you so good, and then we’ll graduate and you’ll never have to worry about this again!” 

“Good.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Fuck!” called out a Victim as Sock poked his plastic knife in between their shoulder blades. Sock maniacally giggled, dancing away and glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was intending to kill him while he celebrated. That was his seventh kill today, he was on fire!

The person dropped dramatically, knife falling out of their hand and clattering a few inches away from their “dead” body. “Got me again, Sowachowski,” the person rasped, going limp and letting their tongue hang out of their mouth while Sock picked up their knife.

“Sorry, G, I know you were looking forward to winning this year.”

“G” laughed after a moment and got up, brushing themselves off. “Ha, you kidding? After dying to you twice, I have no hope of beating you at Murder until you graduate.”

Sock shrugged, and skipped off. “Good luck next year!” he called over his shoulder, skipping away to find his next Victim.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

8 Victims. 9 Victims. 10. 12, a double kill, because he somehow managed to find someone who was hanging out with their target, probably waiting for the best time to strike, but never got the chance. 13, and then 14, a minute later, when he realized he’d killed someone who had been stalking their Victim, and not paying attention to who was sneaking up behind them. He briefly wondered if the person who had his knife had no idea who he was. His chosen name was so wild, and he didn’t even go by it. Maybe the staff had used his nickname. He doubted it though. Putting his full name down seemed just like the kind of sick twisted thing they’d do. 

By the time Sock got back to his dorm that night, he’d killed 25 people.

Someone tried to ambush him at his door, but backed off when they realized he wasn’t their target. “Sorry,” a deep voice muttered in the dark. “Thought you were Tracey.”

“S’alright,” Sock said, opening the door to his dorm. He flipped on the lights and looked around. Trace didn’t appear to be in the room. Sock stepped out of his shoes at the door and skipped to his bed, removing his hat and goggles on the way. He set his hat on a bedpost and his goggles on his bedside table.

As Sock flopped down on his bed, he began pulling all the knives and pictures of students from the day, and throwing them away. He’d only kept the photos of the people he didn’t know, but since he’d killed them he didn’t need them now. He began slipping out of his clothes, and just as he was shimmying out of his jeans he heard a scuffle outside the door and paused, listening. It only went on for about ten seconds and then there was silence.

Then the door opened and Trace stepped inside, their face betraying no emotion. They didn’t even seem phased that Sock was half out of his pants.

“Hey,” Sock greeted pleasantly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He kicked off his jeans and sat up, dressed in only a t-shirt and underwear now. Trace waved and sat on their bed, also beginning to get undressed.

“I heard something happen out there, what was that?”

Trace looked up, pointed to their chest and then dragged their thumb across their neck.

“Aw man, I’m sorry,” Sock said sympathetically.

His roommate shrugged, looking disinterested, but then nodded to Sock with a questioning look on their face.

“I haven’t died yet,” Sock replied proudly. “And I killed 25 people this time!”

They looked impressed.

“Didn’t break last year’s record of 33 though, which is kinda disappointing, but I had practice today, so I couldn’t kill as much as I wanted to…” Sock shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging at his binder.

Tracey signed, ‘Need help?’ and raised an eyebrow, but Sock shook his head. “Nah I got it this time, thanks though.” He reached over his head and grabbed the stretchy part and tugged the binder off with some difficulty, but he managed. “Woof, gotta let the boys breathe after that action packed day,” he commented. Trace snorted.

Sock stretched and flopped down on his bed face first, now only dressed in pink polka dot undies and knee high socks. He huffed out a sigh and didn’t move or breathe for a moment. When his lungs began to burn he lifted his head and gasped, turning over and stretching. He heard Trace snicker and looked over. Sock watched his roommate sign something before moving to finish dressing down for the day.

“No, I’m not committing suicide this early, shut up,” Sock giggled, pushing himself to sit up. “That’s not even a thing. The closest way to do that is just sit around and wait for your assassin to come kill you. But I guess it was kinda the opposite for you, huh?”

Trace shrugged, and continued to undress until they, too, were in their underwear. Unlike Sock, who liked wearing cutesy panties, Tracey Smith was a fan of plain white boxer briefs. That didn’t make their identity any less valid, or - according to Sock - any less hot. The genderqueer knew Sock was ogling them, but didn’t mind. It did wonders for Tracey’s ego to know that someone found them attractive. Especially someone who knew and respected their gender identity without turning it onto a fetish, like too many people did. But Sock never went much further than an appreciative once over, respecting Trace’s personal space. Usually Sock was an invader, but at his roommate’s request to keep his distance except when otherwise wanted, Sock made an effort to keep his hands to himself. Being unable to speak a lot of the time made it harder to object to unwanted advances, but they were grateful that Sock listened, so to speak, pun not intended.

‘I’m going to take a shower, want to come with me? I’ll protect you, now that I’m dead,’ Trace signed, throwing their towel over their shoulder.

Sock grinned appreciatively at his roommate, standing up and grabbing his towel off one end post, and a big pj t-shirt off the floor on his side of the room, and nodded. “Yeah! Let’s go!”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

By the time Jojo got back to the room she shared with her girlfriend, Lil was already in pajamas, watching something on her phone. She glanced up when Jo walked in, but went right back to her phone. Jojo didn’t waste a second walking into the closet and grabbing some ziploc bags of snack food, a thermos of water, and extra batteries before darting out again. Lil smirked, and rolled her eyes.

 

Not long after the girls arrived at Jojo’s classroom earlier that day, Brittany Bitch herself pushed past them, shoving Jojo out of the way with a snobby, self entitled, “out of my way, dy-” but was immediately cut short by Lil grabbing the ombre-blonde’s long hair and yanking her back for that stunt. She’d landed on the ground, objecting like the action offended half her ancestors which called the attention of most everyone within earshot. The contents of her bag spilled onto the ground, assigned knife/envelope included. It wasn’t even opened, so it was obvious that the Bitch just stuck it into her bag that morning, not caring about who her target was, and forgot about it.

Lil made an attempt at shutting her up by making a big, sarcastic, over-dramatic show of pinning Brittany’s torso to the ground with her foot and exposing Fitch’s neck by yanking her head back, and slicing her throat. If the knife weren’t a flimsy plastic, Lil knew the Bitch would be gushing blood right now, utterly finished. But as it was only a weak imitation, the best it did was leave a small scratch and sting that made Lil’s Victim wince and cuss her out.

Magill tossed the knife down and stepped off. “You’re dead, Bitch,” she spat, leaning down to grab the envelope. “Leave my girlfriend alone, ‘kay?”

Brittany Bitch glared up at her, an angry flush coming to her cheeks as she hastily got up and began shoving her things back into her bag. “Or what? What will you do if I don’t?”

Lil regarded her coldly for a long moment, ripping the envelope open and taking out the knife, looking away to read the name with slight disinterest. “Let’s just say….” she said, watching Jojo’s face light up out of the corner of her eye as she turned her attention back to the Bitch. “I’ll hunt you down, and repeat my actions here….  _ With a real knife.” _

Fitch laughed. “Yeah right! You’re bluffing!” But her laughter died and the color drained from her face when she saw the unwaveringly serious glare Lil had on her face. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “You… You’re not bluffing, are you?”

“Want to find out?” Lil snapped, pointing the knife at the homophobe. “Keep harassing my girlfriend. I guarantee you’ll go to bed one night and never wake back up.”

Jojo ran up to her and flung her arms around her gf’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss. “Oh my god I love you,” the blonde whispered as she pulled back. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Lil flushed, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. “It… she deserved it… I was just making sure she never bothered you again…”

“I’m kinda half-hoping she does, just so you can get rid of her for good.”

“If she values her life, she better fucking not,” Lil said, raising her voice to growl her threat at the stricken with fear Brittany Fitch, who was watching them warily. Brittany flinched and backed away, before turning and stalking away.

 

Lil smiled at the memory. Though she couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the whole Murder Time thing, ‘killing’ Brittany Bitch was one of her proudest moments. But now she had a knife with a name she recognized even less. But it didn’t matter. Jojo was probably gonna end up with her knife sooner or later, and Lil honestly looked forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I haven't given up on this AU yet, I've just been busy. I'm putting off writing for the Big Bang by writing my other fic chapters. Procrastination is one heck of a motivator.


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